Angel Hair & Grandma

   
   "Angel Hair & Grandma"
  
   First of all:  Boy, being from the backwoods of Tennessee, he boldly states:  "When ya eat urself a can of them Beanie-Weenies, enjoy the beanies, but never the weenies--ya hear me boy."
  
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   Now, for something beyond seedless watermelon:  Went to visit my Grandma in a nursing home.  I was eternally emaciated, for that relative moment, with a proud, Tesla-like mustache, though he let Edison have all the credit; next, I slowly sauntered into Grandma's room, and she was being lifted upright by a mechanical appendage, saying:  "Get your ass over here and give me a big kiss."
   Wheeled her outside underneath the Virginia Beach Sunshine--a Border Collie was playing frisbee with its master, and a nice, black lady, also in a wheelchair, asked me if we allowed her to smoke, which I said "Yes" to, and she stated that that was a fine thing to allow.
   As Grandma lit up her generic cigarette, I noticed not any blonde angel hairs upon her--I guess the nursing home didn't house the regulars; then, she looked at me, saying:  "I don't wanna be here.  We should get a shanty.  Just a little shanty."  And then she looked off into the azure noon.  A tough old bird she is.